Home Again, Home Again
by Zellcan'twrite
Summary: Set after Days of Future Past. Alex Summers comes home after the Vietnam War. Charles Xavier is there to greet him. Just a very angsty oneshot with a bit of fluff at the end.


**Home Again, Home Again**

 **Author's Note:** _As usual, I have marked one or two things in this fic with_ _a symbol like this:_ **[x]**. _I've included a few comments at the end of the fanfic on each of these subjects. Most of them are simply my thoughts on the matter._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Alex Summers had often wondered if he'd walk this way again.

He had lived through years of war in Vietnam. It had been, in one word, hellish. He hadn't exactly had an easy life, but he'd take it all back to get away from Southeast Asia. He'd killed relatively few people, but they were a few people too many. He'd stayed away from the drugs that so many of his comrades had been consumed by, but the price was that he couldn't forget, couldn't slip away. He'd seen villages burn and forests burn and everything around him just _burn_. He'd seen so much, too much. A lot of veterans had trouble, and he could understand why. He knew he himself was going to be in for a rough ride, assuming he survived long enough to go home.

Never had he dared to use his abilities; it might've helped him out in a pinch, or protected some of his mates, but he knew all too well the vulnerable position he'd be in if his secret was discovered. As it was, they found out and rounded him up. If Raven hadn't come and set them loose, he didn't want to know what would happen to them. Nothing good, he was sure.

But now, he'd gotten back to the United States, and had set out for Westchester as soon as they'd landed. The whole journey there, he'd been a boiling mess of emotions. He was worried that Stryker and his men might come back for him. He was relieved to be home. Most of all, he was numb. And he was tired, so very tired. He'd been a fighter all the way through, even when he'd willingly put himself into solitary confinement, or when he watched the one person who'd taken care of him instead of the other way around fade. Now, though, he was simply tired of fighting. He didn't think he'd be able to handle Stryker's men if they came for him again. Normally, he'd knock then all flat, but now…

His mind was awhirl as he walked down the last road on his journey. It had been a hard trip; he'd walked a lot of the way, or Hitchhiked when he could. A part of him wanted to stay as far away from the Xavier Mansion as he could. When he'd left, Banshee had been dead for two months. He'd buried his feelings deep within himself, not dealt with them as he knew he should've. He'd been wary, though, of setting off the other two. They'd had a progressively harder time in the years since Cuba. That last, great loss had done nothing for any of them. Hank had thrown himself into his work, rarely even stopping to eat or sleep. And Charles had withdrawn, the fire in his eyes that had once been enough to kindle all their hearts now burning so weakly that he could barely even function.

Try as he might to deny it, watching Charles get progressively weaker, more cynical, had broken Alex's heart. He had pushed harder than Hank to break Charles out of his downward spiral. He'd tried to get him to eat, he'd done his best to remain calm so not to egg on the telepath, and other little things. But for the most part, his efforts had been futile. Alex would never forget the pathetic way Charles clung to him as he walked out the door, not as a heartbroken parent or older brother, but as a forlorn child. Hank's letters, infrequent but always a comfort, had remained intentionally vague when it came to Charles. Alex hadn't minded; somehow, he knew that hearing about what Charles was going through would dampen his spirits even worse. If Alex's leaving had pushed him even further to the brink…

All things considered, a small, irrational part of Alex was afraid to go back. That little part didn't want to have to deal with a broken telepath along with everything else. It wanted to be cared for, not to be constantly worrying about someone else. Big brother or no, Alex was a person who sometimes needed to lean on someone rather than look after them.

The other small part of him focused on this issue wanted more than anything to go home. It was the only stable home he could remember. Most of him, however, was simply focused on the obsessive mantra to put one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other. He couldn't stop or think, because otherwise, the numbness would consume him. He would lie down where he was and give in. The act would be easy, and it wasn't as though he would be missed. Except for Hank and Charles, he had no one in the world as it was. The two had problems enough without him, come to think of it.

Alex forced himself to look up and get out of his own thoughts. They were taking him on a path he didn't need to be taken right now. To his surprise, a familiar gate loomed above him. A placard he himself had helped place many years ago proclaimed that he had made it home.

He pulled the gate open, then slammed it shut behind him. That it was closed wasn't a good sign; Charles had closed the gate the day they closed the school, and had left it shut since. They'd only opened it when they had to, but mostly just left it to rust. Had he looked around, he might've noticed that the lawn had been mowed, that the fountain had been cleared out, that things were generally better cared for than when he'd been gone. As it was, though, he kept his eyes forward toward the door.

He didn't have to knock, however, before it opened, and Alex found himself staring straight into a pair of electric-blue eyes.

"Alex?" Charles Xavier murmured. "You're back?"

"Yeah," Alex replied, setting down his bag on the step and meeting Charles' gaze again. The professor was different somehow, but Alex couldn't for the life of him think of why.

"Welcome back," the telepath said softly, reaching a hand out and taking Alex's forearm. He smiled, not the overwhelming, excited grin he'd had when he'd been younger, but it still lit up his face as it hadn't in years.

That was what was different, Alex realized. His smile had been genuine, and he generally seemed a lot more relaxed and confident in himself. He wasn't where he'd been when he'd recruited Alex and Sean and Hank, but he was sitting just a little straighter than when Alex had left. There was something in his gaze as well, a spark that reminded him far more of the young idealist who'd found him and his fellow mutants and brought them together.

"Professor," Alex replied, voice devoid of emotion. Perhaps this numbness was to be his default state now. He'd gone through several in his short life: worry as a child, anger as a teenager, contentment after Charles and Erik had found him, and despair in the years leading up to Sean's death and his deployment. He wondered if the Professor had felt this way, if that was what had dulled his eyes and made him fear and hate his mutation. What if he ended up nonfunctional like that now? Perhaps his old mentor seemed to be recovering, but Alex didn't want to be a burden.

Speaking of the man himself, he had rested two fingers on his temple. Perhaps the movement was a little slower and far more self-conscious than it had been in the old days, but it was there. Just then, he felt a tickle in the back of his mind, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time. Charles tried subtly warning his friends when he was reading their minds, something he had almost been afraid to do when Alex had left him. Quite frankly, Alex preferred the days when he didn't bother knocking (too hard) when he entered his mind. To him, it implied familiarity, and he'd let the Professor know that when the latter had been starting to show some discomfort with his abilities. Perhaps not everyone felt that way, but Alex did.

The energy bender gave him a little nod without thinking, just in case the telepath still retained any of that fear. By the time he'd left, Charles had consciously kept himself at bay, refusing to use his mutation to read their minds unless absolutely necessary **[1]**. Watching him seemingly stare into nothing, brow wrinkled in concentration, brought a small smile to Alex's face. The sheer familiarity of the act was refreshing, to say the least.

"My word…" the Professor trailed off a moment later, eyes focusing sharply on Alex's face even as shock and sadness settled onto his face. "You've been through so much, Alex."

Oh, damn.

Alex didn't want him to know that. He might've seemed stronger, but he probably wasn't strong enough to deal with those memories yet. He'd done his best throughout the years he'd been here to stifle his thoughts and feelings. Perhaps he wasn't a raging tide of emotion any longer, but now his mind was burdened with things he didn't need anyone sharing.

"Do you want me to leave?" Alex asked. "I mean, do you want me to-"

"It's alright," Charles cut him off, holding up a hand. Whatever doubt Alex might've had that the Professor was back was fading just seeing him do that. "You don't have to. I don't need you to put your needs aside for me anymore, and I never will again."

Alex stared. That wasn't the sort of thing Charles had been up to saying when he'd last seen him.

"Not ever again," he said again, tone firmer, yet somehow even gentler. "It's time for me to be here for you, not the other way around."

The energy bender felt his throat tighten and his heart ache with relief. After all the nothingness he'd been feeling, it was like being hit by a thunderbolt.

"Oh, Alex," Charles began once more, then exhaled, perhaps now choked up himself. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Alex's shoulders and pulled him close. Even though Alex was without a doubt stronger and larger than the other man, he let himself sink to his knees and be enveloped in the embrace, resting his head on the Professor's shoulder, just above his heart.

If he weren't still feeling deadened, he would probably have cried. As it was, he gave a soft sigh, letting feelings that had been gone so long trickle through him. Perhaps he was being helped along by the telepath holding him. In fact, he could almost sense his mind being taken up by a more powerful consciousness, the numbness being brushed away just slowly enough that he could handle and soothing sensations being poured into his very soul. He leaned into the embrace just a little further, and felt Charles' arms tighten around his body in response

He'd been wrong. He'd be taken care of just fine.

* * *

 **Author's note:** _Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot! I've decided to put myself on a relatively strict publishing schedule here and put something up every Friday. Since this is the only piece of writing I currently have access to (owing to a new computer and an old one on the fritz), here it is._

 _Originally, this was a followup to a oneshot written about Alex's first moments after finding out he's going to Vietnam, and Charles and Hank's reactions. However, since that one isn't even completed yet, I put this one up first. Maybe it'll go up someday, maybe not._

 _Now then. On to the story note._

 **[1]:** _I figure that Alex left before Hank perfected the serum which dampened Charles' powers. However, by the time he left, Charles was probably having a lot of trouble with his mutation growing stronger, not to mention his own despair. I've mentioned both here._

 _Thank you! As always, I appreciate constructive criticism, so please review. Any suggestions, requests for other stories, or anything of the like feeds my muse!_


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